


Caught in a Sunrise

by NamiSazanami



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8211685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamiSazanami/pseuds/NamiSazanami
Summary: Turn your face to the sun and the shadows will fall behind you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Hex Files](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Hex_Files), which was closed for financial and health reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Hex Files collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thehexfiles/profile).

Disclaimer: Not mine. It all belongs to JK Rowling. But I’m sure she doesn’t mind me borrowing her characters for my own amusement. 

Beta'd by Sevafan - Thanks! 

Enjoy!

  
_**Caught in a Sunrise** _

~`~

_Turn your face to the sun and the shadows will fall behind you ~ Maori proverb_

~`~

Death didn’t seem so frightening, life didn’t seem such a bitter battle, and the world didn’t look so cruel and impossible when watching the sun rise after the battle. It was officially his first sunrise of his new life in a Voldemort-free world and all the shadows seemed to be behind him now.

Sitting at the edge of the lake, his gaze was set on the path to the Forbidden Forest that he had taken only a few hours ago when he had walked to his supposed doom. But even as he stared down the line of trees and indistinct shadows in the underbrush, his vision didn’t change, the forest didn’t suddenly start looming impossibly closer as though it was about to swallow him whole, and he was still able to feel his body firmly grounded to the grassy bank beneath him, heart rate beating at a normal level. 

Finally breaking his gaze, as it seemed the terror was not going to come back and haunt him, no longer how long he tested himself, Harry turned his eyes back to the castle. The dead had been gathered and the Great Hall was now in silent mourning; if Harry hadn’t known better he would never have suspected the gruesome horrors that invaded these grounds only moments before. Everything seemed so peaceful and perfect, like any other day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

The gentle, steady waves on the lake lapped at the edges of the bank by Harry’s feet as he let time pass him by, seconds disappearing with every gentle caress of water on rocks. 

What could have been a whole day later, but was probably only a few hours, given the halfway risen position of the sun in the sky, Harry turned his head back towards the castle, preparing himself to return to the rest of the world. 

He froze, midway through mentally convincing himself that he needed to actually stand up to leave, when he saw a tall, pale figure walking down the front steps and onto the sloping lawn towards Harry. There was no mistaking that gait, nor that shiny platinum blond hair that was looking decidedly a bit more dishevelled than normal, given that the person had probably had more important things to think about of late than the state of his appearance; mainly, the survival of his family and himself. But that still didn’t explain why he was making his way over to Harry right now. Hadn’t he and his mother and father left already? Harry certainly would have gotten away from the battle ground as soon as possible if he’d had any family to go with or a home to go to. Then again, he could also see why Draco and his family wouldn’t want to go back to the Manor so soon. 

Harry was suddenly shaken from his musings and slight anxiety of watching his ex-rival drawing closer by a hand landing heavily on his shoulder. 

“Lost in thought again?” a soft voice asked in his ear. 

Harry turned to see the apparition – he now realised – he had been staring at moments before, now in the flesh in front of him, if a few years older. Smiling, he leaned into Draco’s side and nodded. 

“Getting caught up in the memories again. Sitting here never fails to bring them back as sharply as they were the morning after the battle.” He looked back to where he had been watching the past form of Draco descending towards him, letting the Draco next to him know exactly what he had been thinking. With a smile to his partner, he switched his gaze to the forest, which was still as it had been nearly ten years ago. Yet Harry felt no trepidation staring into its depths, he hadn’t since he had stared down death and walked away relatively unharmed. It seemed that nothing much had changed here…but them. 

“I had figured as much.” Draco reached out a hand and caught Harry’s hanging over his knee. “But you have people to mingle with inside and then a speech to give,” he said, jerking his chin back towards the direction of the castle, “and we can’t keep the salivating crowds waiting too long. Come on.” He stood, Harry’s hand still in his grasp, and hauled the other man up to his feet. “The sooner you get this over with, the sooner we can go home.” 

Harry cast the lake another long, lingering glance and sighed. 

“I hate giving speeches.” 

“I know.” 

“They keep waiting for the heroic tales of some fearless, amazing wizard that could take on Merlin himself –”

“Well let’s not get too up ourselves,” Draco quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face as he listened passively. 

“— But they know all I ever say is that I didn’t win this war alone, it wasn’t just my war to win, and then thank all the people who really made a difference.” 

“Gluttons for punishment, these hangers-on.”

“And,” Harry continued, barely acknowledging that he had heard Draco, “then they _still_ act like I just – just – just –cured cancer or something!”

“That’s a Muggle thing, love; cancer is curable in the wizarding world.” 

“You know what I mean,” Harry scoffed, pulling his hand out of Draco’s with a jerk. “They clap and cheer and bury me in more accolades, more than half of which are completely made up!” 

“You’d think they have better things to do with their time than praise the saviour of the wizarding world,” Draco murmured, shaking his head in mock sympathy while reaching for Harry’s hand again, which was once again denied as Harry stomped over, closer to the edge of the lake until his toes were just at the bank’s precipice. 

“And I still haven’t done anything to even merit praise! I’m just a stupid poster boy for the Ministry, all because I was forced to off that evil lunatic based on a stupid prophecy, which I really only survived through sheer dumb luck! I haven’t done anything!” Harry twisted his head around to glare up at the great doors, behind which Ministry officials, teachers, and everyone who was anybody in the wizarding world were milling behind, celebrating the seventh-year anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat and waiting in anticipation for the moment when _the_ Harry Potter would come and give a speech. 

Draco was silent for awhile as he let Harry fume, lips twitching in closed-mouth curses, hands curling and uncurling into fists, and toes scuffing the dirt and grass tufts, completely ruining his dress shoes. 

Finally, when the sun had almost reached its peak in the sky and Harry seemed to calm down some, Draco stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with the other man. 

“You forget the other manticore,” Draco said softly, with more seriousness in his voice than he had used the entire day. 

“Huh?” Harry jerked his head around to look at him with confusion. 

“The other manticore you slew.” 

Harry was even more confused now. He was pretty sure there were no manticores in the war, let alone any that he’d slain. He didn’t think he’d ever even seen a real one to be honest. Now, he had killed a basilisk; maybe Draco was getting his magical creatures confused. 

“It’s an old witch’s saying,” Draco shook his head, as though he knew exactly what Harry was thinking. “What I mean is, you didn’t just face off Voldemort countless times and finally kill him because of some old prophecy from that batty Seer.” 

Harry waited. 

“You also came back.”

Harry’s eyes followed Draco’s as they drifted to the Forbidden Forest. 

“You had fulfilled the prophecy, destroyed all the Horcruxes; your part was over. You could have just passed on and let Death take you. But you didn’t.” Draco shook his head minutely, eyes still drawn to the forest, like he too was seeing a scene from the past playing out as though stuck in time. “You came back and fought, and finished it, even though someone else could have done the final deed. Even though you didn’t think you had anything to come back to really. But you did.” 

Only Hermione, Ron, and Draco knew about Harry’s chat with Dumbledore at King’s Cross. It was too personal to share with the rest of the world. But Harry had never really thought of his choosing to come back as brave or anything. He had felt obligated to be the one to kill Voldemort. He had wanted to make sure that the bastard actually died and didn’t find a way to come back. But he supposed it was more than that too, he just hadn’t understood it at the time. 

“But,” Draco interrupted his thoughts and reached down to grasp Harry’s hand again; this time he succeeded, “even though no one knows about it, and they don’t give you another award for facing Death and coming back, it still makes you a very good, kind-hearted, and courageous man. And whether it was luck or not, you still persevered; you never gave up. Most people wouldn’t have survived half of what you did, simply for the fact that the world is made up of too many cowards, and anyone else in your position would have buckled under the pressure and given up long before the final battle, myself included, most likely.” Draco gave a half-mouth grimace and squeezed Harry’s hand, tearing both their gazes away from the dark line of trees in the distance. 

Harry scoffed back, for he knew what kind of man Draco really was, and knew that he had carried just as big a burden as Harry and he was still standing here all the better for it. But they both already knew this, and none of it needed to be said again. 

The rays of the sun sparkled across the surface of the lake and glared into the eyes of the two men standing just off shore. Despite the slight discomfort, they stood there, looking out at the lake, watching the giant squid occasionally lift a tentacle to the surface to lap up the perfect heat of the day and then splash down again, making even larger ripples in the water. 

It truly was a gorgeous day. And standing there, soaking up the peace and quiet of the afternoon, Harry thought it was at least gratifying to know that things had been able to return to normal and students were still coming here to learn, make friends, and have fun. Just as it should be. 

He may not have known it at the time, but he had had a reason to come back, and every day he was grateful that he did. 

“Thanks,” Harry whispered, squeezing Draco’s hand in his own. “I guess we should get back up there, then. Wouldn’t want to deprive the people of their ten minutes of me.” 

“Plebeians,” Draco muttered with a smirk. Turning back around, Draco started to lead Harry back up to the castle, but not before Harry let himself take one last look over at the forest. The forest where he had slain his first and second manticore, he thought with a twisted grin. 

Just as he was about to turn back, responding to the insistent tug on his hand, he felt a sudden force yanking to a stop and an unexpected lifting sensation pulling at his stomach. Abruptly, he felt himself somersaulting backwards, away from the scene, and watching as the world around him became hazy, details indistinct and distorted, until he was just spinning through a colourful mist. 

His whole body jolted backwards as his mind was sharply pushed back into the present. Harry became aware of a hand on his waist, no doubt belonging to the person who had pulled him from the Pensieve just now. He stared unseeing into the stone basin that had once belonged to Dumbledore, but was now filled with Harry’s own memories. 

“C’mon, love. You’ve ruminated on the past long enough now. Time to go.”

Harry turned to see the same man from his memory, only about a decade older now. He smiled as the other man leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth as he wound a tie around Harry’s neck and straightened and smoother his robes out. 

“We have to leave now; you know how Granger gets when you’re late. I’ll never hear the end of it.” Draco rolled his eyes dramatically and pulled Harry in for another kiss. Smiling, he asked, “Are you ready?” 

Harry looked back at the Pensieve, still swirling with his thoughts, and then out at that evening sky where a few stars were just starting to shine through. 

Nodding, he said, “I am now.”

“Good.” Draco tightened his tie again, ran his hands down Harry’s arms to make sure everything was in place and that Harry looked perfectly presentable, as he always did whenever Draco picked out his wardrobe. “Then you, Mr Malfoy-Potter, have Ministry sycophants to mingle with and a speech to give. Then afterwards, if you’re a good boy, we can sneak off and stay to watch the sunrise over the lake.” 

Harry grinned happily. He didn’t need words to tell Draco that he would love doing exactly that. After all, it had all started with their first sunrise, which had been more than worth slaying his second manticore for, he thought. And it still was. 

Holding out his arm for Draco to take, he cocked his head jauntily to the side and beckoned towards the door. “Shall we?”

~La Fin~ 


End file.
